Trench

Eighteen

The closer the Assemblage came, the more nervous Tyler felt. Even with his new drug, he couldn't get the letter he'd seen out of his mind. He thought about it every time he had a second of free time, and it scared him, especially since he found himself drifting back to his old ways.

He wanted to forget everything that he'd seen, but it was branded into his mind, haunting him every waking hour. His only comfort came from knowing that he had saved this poor writer's soul. Whoever Clancy was, they were better off in their Bishop's hands.

He hoped.

Something lingered in the back of his mind, no matter how hard he tried to push it away. It was the notion that maybe there was a sliver of truth in the writing. He had always felt as though something was off. The Bishops didn't tell them everything, and though that was expected, he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe they were keeping something important from the citizens. Had the writer Clancy figured it out?

He shook his head violently, scattering the thoughts for a moment, and returned his attention to his dinner. He wasn't hungry, but he forced himself to eat anyway. In just a few short hours, he would join the other citizens in the center of the city, just outside his Bishop's tower, and he would witness another Assemblage. Would he find Clancy there? Another thought wiggled its way into his brain and made him tingle with discomfort. What if they had been Glorified? Though Tyler hoped that the writer would learn and allow themselves to be saved, the thought of their Glorification made Tyler's stomach turn. He tried to convince himself that he would be happy for them if they became one of the Glorified, but for some reason, that kind of fate wasn't something he'd wish upon anyone.

It is an honor, not a punishment, he insisted, his grip tightening on his fork. Suddenly, he wished he had never read the letter in the first place.

He raised his head slightly and glanced around the cafeteria. Though he didn't know what Clancy looked like, he wondered if he could find them. He quickly shook his head again, startling the person next to him. It was better if he didn't know who they were. They had written a letter full of blasphemy, and Tyler wanted nothing to do with it.

After dinner, he had an hour before he was to join the others and attend the Assemblage. He took his time walking back to his apartment, trying desperately to ignore the thoughts whirling in his head. One phrase repeated over and over. The nine have hijacked our trust.

That's not true, he insisted, but strange memories surfaced, foggy and distant, but they were unmistakably his. He had always remembered being outside of the city, but suddenly he began to remember sounds and colors and feelings. And two voices. A male and a female. The man's voice was soft but firm, smiling underneath, and the woman's was bright and warm. It sparked something soft inside him. They were so familiar. Why couldn't he remember them? His Bishop had told him that repeated smearings could cause memory loss, but for a moment, Tyler let himself think that maybe they were making him forget on purpose.

Instantly, his hand curled around the pill bottle in his pocket and he started to open the lid. All this thinking was going to get him in serious trouble. But he remembered the woman's voice, and a deep anger toward the Bishops bubbled in his chest. He loved her - or at least he thought he did. Why did they try to take that away from him?

I have to get out of here.

The fear that accompanied the thought was strong enough to take his breath away. It grabbed his throat and stopped him in his tracks. He could almost hear his Bishop coming up behind him to smear him and make him forget for good. But the halls reminded silent except for the shuffling of feet as the other citizens walked around him without a glance.

He hurried to his flat and searched for a bag. There had been a breach from the outside two days ago, on the East side of Dema in Sector Six. Maybe he could find it - find them - and escape. He gathered up everything he could think to bring, but then paused. There was no way he'd be able to escape tonight. His Bishop would notice his absence before the Assemblage even started. Tomorrow. He would go tomorrow. And then he would finally find those two voices and remember who they were. His heart jumped in excitement.

Fear.

...

The Annual Assemblage of the Glorified was the biggest and holiest Vialist ceremony in the entire city. Every citizen from all nine sectors gathered in the center of Dema to witness the Glorification Ceremony and honor those who had met an early grave. Tyler had always despised the Assemblage, even before he had been plagued with thoughts of escape. Something about it had always felt wrong, and he always left feeling sick to his stomach. Perhaps it was because his Bishop promised that he would become one of the Glorified someday.

He followed the crowd as they took him to the center of the city, his chest tight with anxiety. Even thinking about the upcoming Ceremony set his nerves on edge. His heart screamed at him to turn and run, but he ignored the urge and forced himself forward.

Once he reached church courtyard, he lingered around the back, hoping to settle there after everybody had arrived. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one with that idea, and by the time the crowd settled down and the Assemblage began, he was closer to the middle. Everyone knelt down, and he tried to ignore the pain in his knees and make himself as small as possible. After only a few minutes, the air became stuffy and sweat dripped down his back. He had a feeling this was going to be the longest Assemblage he had ever attended.

The Bishops brought out unlit Vials and silently laid them out in front of them. Tyler knew what they were going to say, but he couldn't bring himself to cover his ears.

"Citizens," Nills began. His voice was soft, but it traveled effortlessly through the crowds and sounded as if he was standing directly in front of each of them. "We come together today as the Nine Districts of Dema for the Annual Assemblage of the Glorified. We honor those who have so bravely taken their lives for us, and wish them peace and glory in the endless life to come. May we all strive to be like them someday."

Tyler's entire body tingled as the Bishop spoke. He wanted to stand up and scream, denying everything Vialism taught, but he stayed kneeling with his mouth shut.

There was nothing he hated more than Vialism. Live to die. Live to be Glorified. Those who lived long lives were looked down upon. They were cowards. They were selfish for keeping their light to themselves. They should have given it to the city long ago. Tyler wanted to make them see that there was more to life than dying to serve a twisted religion, but no one would listen. No one but the writer Clancy.

Tyler looked away from the Bishops as they began the lighting ritual and let his eyes scan the crowds. There was always a slim chance that Clancy would look up, too. Maybe then they could talk after the Assemblage, and maybe they wouldn't feel so alone.

Something caught his eye on the opposite side of the crowd, nearly ninety degrees from the Bishops and their neon. A small, round object fell from a window. Tyler watched as it fell, seemingly in slow motion, and then it hit the ground with a bang and an enormous cloud of grey smoke obscured the crowd.

The Assemblage stood completely still.